Remembering
by TellMeATale
Summary: A quest to remember, to be found, and to be loved.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

His alarm pierced through his peaceful sleep, snapping him out of his slumber. His arm stretched out and clumsily slammed down on the snooze button as he lifted the pillow over his head to block out the harsh sunlight, lambasting himself for forgetting to shut the curtains the previous night.

As the alarm pierced through the silence again he hauled himself into a sitting position, switching the alarm off. Reaching into his bedside drawer he did as he did every morning for the past few years. He took out his tiny notebook that Dr Daniels had given him. Jot down everything he remembered he was told, but as he flicked through the empty pages his heart sank. Never had it occurred to him that there would be nothing at all, not since the first day he got out of hospital just over six years ago. If it weren't for this habitual morning ritual the book would be gathering dust in a cupboard somewhere, forgotten about entirely.

Retrograde Amnesia Dr Daniels had called it, and as far as he was concerned that's all they knew for certain. The doctors had been stumped when he said he no recollection of his own past, and even more so when they found he had the ability to be create and keep new memories. They spoke in great detail about nerve pathways and frontal lobes but none of them really understood. They had just handed him a notebook and sent him on his way in the hope that he would remember something eventually. The only contact he got from the hospital now was the odd occasion they would call as some doctor was hoping to put him in a medical journal. He had always politely declined.

He looked down at the notebook and gently fondled the sole word on the page. Carla. That was it. No surname, no image of a face or a remembrance of a smell, he didn't even know what she may have been to him if anything. It was the feeling he got when he heard the name, the way that one word just fell so effortlessly off his lips. Like he had spent his entire lifetime uttering that one word.

He had attempted to date over the past few years but nothing ever developed into something more serious. Conversation on a date dried up fast when there was nothing to say about himself, he couldn't remember what he did, what he liked, music, sport, it was all a blank. And whilst women found his story of amnesia somewhat endearing, if not just a line, the novelty soon wore off and all that was left was awkward silences. He'd given up eventually, finding he actually enjoyed being on his own more than the constant explanations of his mental state. His friend Joe had attempted to make light of his situation by suggesting he could completely reinvent himself, start a fresh, but this wasn't good enough for John. All he wanted was to be found.

What kind of person must he have been? That no one was interested to see where he had gone or what had happened to him? No one it seemed had cared enough to look for him in the last six years, what had he done that was so bad?

He made his way through to the kitchen, popping the leaky kettle on. Everything in the flat was breaking or broken, having cobbled together things from old charity shops to second hand goods from mates at work. It's not easy furnishing a flat with no money, starting from scratch at whatever age he was.

The walls were bare with only two exceptions, a wall filled with shelves of vinyl records and a solitary photo on the mantle piece that Joe's wife had insisted on him having to brighten the place up. A picture of himself with Joe and his daughter Caitlin. Even though it had been six years he still felt this was a temporary life. That one day he'd remember his own family, wife and child maybe, and he'd return to that home. What was the point in spending a fortune here? But the longer time went on the lonelier this flat felt. And as one woman claimed the bare walls just made him seem like some kind of serial killer.

There was a knock at the door snapping him out of his trance. A tall gangly man walked through the door as soon as it was opened for him, heading straight to the fridge.

"Mate you've got no beers in," he complained.

"Make yourself at home Joe," he sighed, setting himself back onto the sofa.

"I've got them missing persons reports, came in first thing this morning," he threw a folder at him. "Have you only just woken up?"

Liam grunted in reply, spreading the missing person reports across the kitchen counter.

Joe had interviewed him for the Wetherfield Gazette after his accident. It was him who had named him John Smith, because apparently he was most likely to be John Smith than any other name. Although the article was never published, no one wanted to read about a nobody that no one had come forward to find, Joe took him under his wing nevertheless, finding him a job in HR at the newspaper and a place to stay.

More recently Joe had picked up the missing persons ads that were sent into the paper for him in the hope that someone, somewhere had finally reported him missing. But today proved no different from any other, his picture never came up.

"No joy?"

"Nope," John sighed, scanning through the folder again to see if he had missed anything.

"No offence mate but do you not think that after this amount of time if someone was going to put forward a missing person report they would have done it by now?"

"You never know, someone may have woken up this morning and thought 'hey, I swear I had a son six years ago, I wonder what happened to him'," John replied dryly, his eyes still rechecking the reports for anything that matched his own description.

"Right mate, grab your coat."

"Why?"

"We're getting you out of your head, you can't just sit here on your day off flicking through the missing persons ads, it's tragic."

"I won't."

"Come on, I need a pint and you need the company."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A short while later he found himself sat in a bustling pub nursing the dregs of a pint, waiting for Joe to return with the next round. There were some drunken lads hanging around the jukebox and he couldn't help but smile at their clichéd music choices. DJ Fresh didn't seem appropriate for a Saturday afternoon in the pub but still they kept repeating the same mindless song over and over.

Music was the one thing he was quite clued up on. After the accident he read somewhere that music was a major trigger to memories. But after spending most of his pay cheques on music, memories still evaded him and after two years and a somewhat staggering vinyl collection he had given up and instead attempted some other useless recommendation from the Internet. Each one as fruitless as the last. He didn't bother at all anymore. It wasn't that he had given up he just didn't see the point anymore. What was the point in finding himself when no one else was interested in finding him?

He cocked his head slightly as the lads around the jukebox jeered jovially at one of their members as a new song began to play; clearly unhappy with the new direction he had taken their playlist. DJ Fresh had finally given way to a much mellower tune that John did not know, and yet there was something so familiar about it. He shut his eyes and pressed his fingers against them, trying to squeeze out the vision that began to filter through. He was stood in an unfamiliar room holding someone. His heart felt as if it were about to explode in his chest as she pulled back and stared up at him with tear strewn beautiful green eyes. Then he was somewhere else, with her again, although she looked much younger. This room was filled with people, her green eyes were piercing into him again as he danced with her but this time they were smiling up at him. Carla Connor. Carla Connor was smiling up at him.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Joe laughed, slamming their drinks onto the table.

"What's this song called?" he demanded.

"What song?"

"The one that's playing right now," John's voice became more desperate as the vision began to melt away.

"I dunno, it's by the Verve maybe? John, are you alright?"

"Liam."

"What?"

"My name, it's Liam," he repeated with more conviction this time.

Joe looked confused before the penny began to drop. "Did you just remember that?"

A huge grin spread across Liam's face. "Liam Connor, that's definitely it. And Carla Connor. She must be my wife or something?"

"Is she hot?"

"I don't know, yes? She has green eyes," Liam remembered from his flashback, pulling his notebook from his pocket he rapidly began jotting this fact down into his notebook.

Joe gulped down the beginning of his pint, making a move for the exit as he did.

"Where are you going?" Liam looked up from his notepad.

"Weatherfield Gazette, I can check out all the old newspapers online. I'll look you up Liam Connor."

Liam finished a final sentence in his book and reread what he had transferred to paper, his mind still racing. This small window to his past life was more than he had ever had, and he found himself petrified he would lose it all over again.

"Are you coming or what?" Joe smiled at his friend and Liam followed him out the door eagerly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"You don't have to stay if you don't want?" Liam set himself down on the desk in Joe's cubicle at the Gazette, fiddling nervously with a stapler.

"And miss out on the story of my career?" Joe grinned as they searched through his office computer.

"So that's why you hang around me like a bad smell?"

Liam was attempting to make light of the situation but he was anxious as to what searching through old newspaper reports could actually achieve, thousands of scenarios running through his mind. What if Carla was dead? Was that why no one had come to look for him? Did they just have each other?

He had attempted to keep at bay the more negative ideas that were running through his head such as the real reason why no one come to look for him. He had a wife, maybe a family, where were they? And what if they found nothing? What would the next step be?

"Did you say your name was Liam Connor?"

"Have you found something?" Liam perked up.

"A couple of things actually."

"Well spit it out!"

"That October you had your accident..." Joe trailed off as he continued to read.

"Yeah?"

"You're front page news," Joe looked astonished. "Says here you died in a hit and run."

"What?" Liam jumped off the desk and leaned over his friend's shoulder to see what had cropped up.

"It's got your picture and everything."

"Let me see, that can't be-" Liam looked confused, turning the computer screen round to see more clearly.

"There's one a year after that too. Says some bloke called Anthony Gordon was charged with organising a hit and run on you. Summat about an affair with his fiancé?"

"What? Someone ordered a hit on me?" Liam was sceptical. "Let me see that," he pushed his friend out of the seat and took his place at the computer now.

A short while later Liam and Joe sat in silence in the journalist's cubicle, information from the past half hour washing over them as they both struggled to absorb it. Liam swivelled aimlessly round and round in Joe's desk chair as Joe spread the two articles across the floor, examining every detail that may trigger something in his friend's memory.

"At least now you know why no one came looking for you."

"They all think I'm dead," Liam whispered in disbelief.

"Looks like it."

"How does summat like that happen? I mean don't they need to bury a body, don't they need to identify it?"

"You didn't say you had a kid too," Joe commented.

"I didn't know," Liam was almost in tears now, there was so much information and none of it sounded even vaguely familiar to him.

"Says here you left wife Maria behind as well," Joe passed him the article leaving Liam even more confused.

Liam sat back in his chair, taking in all this information. It explained why no one had come to look for him, but murdered? It all sounded like someone else's life, something out of a film. And who was Maria who had mothered his child?

"Is any of this ringing any bells?"

"Nope," Liam said flatly. "All I remember is Carla's face."

"And she was that bloke's fiancé?"

"Apparently."

"But you've got the same surname?"

Liam shook his head in disbelief. His head falling into his hands as he strained to remember any of the people that had been discussed. Someone had actually murdered him, or least thought they had. And Carla, this one person he had been thinking of for so long wasn't his wife, she was his mistress. Maybe he was that bad person he had always feared he had been.

"You can't take all this as gospel anyway mate, a lot of it's probably embellished."

"Says here he handed himself in to the police. I'd say that's not embellished."

"No, probably not. But they've probably brandished the word 'affair' about a little too easily."

Liam grunted in response. He knew Joe was trying to placate him but he knew in his heart of hearts it must be true. Whoever this Carla was he clearly loved her. She just wasn't who he had assumed her to be.

"What happens now then mate?"

"I have no idea," Liam sighed.

"I tell you one thing, this will make one hell of an article."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

After their weekend spent engrossed in old newspaper articles Joe convinced Liam that his best option going forward was to report what he knew to the police. Liam had taken some convincing, but as Joe rightly pointed out, turning up on the doorstep of his unsuspecting family may send them into meltdown. And, the police may be able to explain more about this almighty cock up before he went charging into a situation he had barely begun to understand himself.

And so, armed with no evidence but a few old newspaper articles, his medical records and the belief in his own sanity he began to explain his situation to several officers at the local station. All of who looked at him like he had grown an alien out of his forehead; but promised, with disparaging smiles, to look into it none the less. Whilst Joe had persuaded him that this was the most sensible course of action, it had taken all his will not to track down his whole family and declare he was still alive himself. He was so close to answers now but the more questions that were answered the more questions he had.

It took the police an entire week to clarify his story with his doctors, and once they had, the tone in their exchanges transformed dramatically from patronising to apologetic. None of them could explain how this situation could have come about, all they could do was scratch their heads at the conundrum and drag their feet whenever Liam mentioned getting in touch with his family. When Liam eventually did sit in on a meeting with the Chief of Police it was decided that the body that lay in Liam's own grave would have to be excavated, but of course none of that could be done without the permission of his family. And so, being trapped into a corner by their own red tape the police finally conceded his family would have to be contacted and told of the developments. Much to Liam's relief.

For Liam's part, the week had gone by without any new flashbacks, instead he had sat listening to that same Verve song over and over and had seen as the memory of Carla, whoever she was to him, had appeared every time. Becoming more and more vivid, and more and more beautiful to him.

Throwing himself face down on Joe's sofa after yet another day at the police station, Liam was exhausted.

"So what happens now?" Joe's wife Sarah asked, kicking her houseguest's feet off the sofa and passing him a large glass of red wine.

Hauling himself into a sitting position Liam shrugged. "The police aren't trying to section me anymore I'll put it that way."

"But they are doing something?" Joe asked concerned.

"They said I could deal with this however I want, but they recommended I let the police inform my family of the news and then we can take it as it comes."

"When are they doing that?"

"Joe, stop being a journalist for five minutes?" Sarah laughed.

"They've been palming him off all week."

"Well the Chief of Police himself is going to speak to them tomorrow."

"Where do they live?"

Liam shrugged again, "They won't tell me. I think they're petrified I might just turn up there unannounced."

"Imagine it from your wife's perspective though right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well you died, leaving her to bring up a child on her own and then she finds out you were murdered because you were actually having an affair with someone else, and to top it all off, here you are… not dead at all!" Sarah continued. "It's something you read off one of them Take A Break magazines at the doctors, right next to the story about the woman who slept with her son."

"Do you think they'll tell that Carla woman?" Joe asked.

"I suppose so, I don't know if they only go to my next of kin and then she'll just have to spread the word-"

"And I highly doubt she's in touch with your mistress," Joe added with a wry smile.

"What do you tell your son? I mean she might have remarried by now for all you know," Sarah continued, more to herself than her husband and his friend. "He's probably got a new dad an' all."

"She's a laugh a minute your missus," Liam took a large gulp from his wine.

"Sorry," Sarah smiled apologetically. "Did they tell you anything about this Gordon bloke?"

"Actually yes, apparently he's dead now."

"What?"

"He escaped from prison and then died in a fire according to the police."

"What about the other bloke? The one that actually did it?" Joe asked.

"Jimmy Dockerson, he's in prison still, but they're going to have to reopen his case since he didn't actually murder me."

"This just gets better and better," Sarah clapped her hands in delight.

"This isn't an episode of Jeremy Kyle y'know Sarah, it's still my life."

"So have you had any more memories?" Joe tried to lighten the atmosphere, shooting his wife a disapproving look.

Liam shook his head, "Just the same two over and over again."

"And that's definitely Carla?" Sarah piped in.

"I just don't get why you have the same surname?"

"Maybe you were married and she kept the name after the divorce?" Sarah opined.

"Who knows."

"I just hope it doesn't come back that she's your sister!" Joe laughed.

He coughed awkwardly however as it was his wife's turn to shoot him a disapproving look.

"Did you find out when your birthday was?" Sarah asked.

"25th February 1974," Liam sighed. "Although I preferred assuming I was still 35."

"And I always said you were older than me!" Joe smirked.

"There's not even a year between us!" Liam laughed.

Liam paced nervously by the phone, the police had told him to expect a call in the afternoon after speaking to his wife. But as he checked his watch Liam convinced himself they had forgotten entirely. He was growing increasingly impatient with the situation, and had begun to regret turning to the police at all. But whilst the past week had felt like a set back, waiting on the police constantly, what was most frustrating was the lack of memories. That song has triggered something and Liam had spent the past week waiting for a tirade of other memories to follow, but there was nothing. The sooner he met his family the sooner he could maybe start to remember his old life. There was a woman out there who he did not know who was raising his child, someone he also did not know. He had been murdered by a man he couldn't even remember and over a woman he clearly had loved.

His train of thought was eventually cut short by the piercing ring of the phone. Composing himself Liam's hand hovered over the hand set.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"You're a bit early," a police officer looked up from his screen to him and back again.

"So?" Liam said shortly, coming out harsher than intended as he scanned the lobby for a sign of anyone he may recognise.

The police had organised a meeting with himself and his wife and sister, he had been so excited at first but over night that excitement had been replaced with blind fear. He couldn't help the nagging feeling that these poor people weren't really his family, that the police had contacted a random family and built up all their hopes, only to present them with him today. A total stranger.

"If you'd like to take a seat I'll call through for you," the officer adopted a much curter tone in response.

Joe smiled politely at the officer behind the desk and ushered Liam into one of the plastic seats in the waiting area. But no sooner had Liam sat down when his doctor, Dr. Daniels entered into the lobby as well.

"Dr. Daniels," he waved him over, rising to his feet again.

"John!" The doctor smiled warmly. "Although I'm now told it's actually Liam."

"Apparently so," Liam replied. He felt self conscious all of a sudden as the doctor looked him over as if he was some kind of medical marvel.

"I'm so impressed about this break through, after all this time it's just... almost a miracle!"

"It's not like I remember everything-"

"No but this meeting could open something up, or a return to your home, the possibilities now are so vast. We have the starting blocks to proceed."

Liam nodded politely, feeling a pang of annoyance at his use of the word 'we'. He knew Dr. Daniels was there to assist the reunion in explaining Liam's condition but he could sense there were other motives. He wanted to view first hand an amnesia sufferer flooded with lost memories. If he hadn't been nervous enough this morning then a police liaison officer named Debbie joined them and a social worker who he didn't quite catch the name of. She was a shy young girl though and Liam really did not see the point in her presence. He didn't see the point in any of them being there.

"Remind me again why all these people need to be here?" Liam muttered to Joe as they were ushered into what he could only describe as a boardroom.

"They're just covering their backs, ignore them all alright? We're here to find out about Liam."

Liam nodded resting his elbows on the table in front of him and clasping his hands together to stop himself from shaking. Facing them was the door and three solitary chairs.

"This looks more like a job interview than a family reunion," he grumbled to Joe.

"Look is everyone's presence here absolutely necessary?" Joe piped up to the room. "It isn't a spectator sport."

But before anyone could answer the door swung open and two women were accompanied into the room by yet another police officer. The first woman he felt he vaguely recognise locked her eyes on him immediately and clasped her hand to her face. Her knees buckled with shock as her companion caught her and ushered her to their seats as she struggled compose herself.

The woman with her was pretty he noted, petite with big eyes, his wife he presumed. The three of them studied each other in a mix of disbelief and confusion until the man they came in with finally introduced himself.

"I'm Chris, I'm a police liaison officer with the Wetherfield Police…" he began but Liam switched off, his head spinning slightly.

A flash of images rushed across his memory, Michelle's face after an argument, snatching a football off her, her spilling a pint over him, both of them laughing together. The stories behind these images remained a mystery but for the first time he began to believe he was stepping back towards his own life and not a stranger's. With this newfound confidence his hand shot up to silence the liaison officer before his brain realised what it was doing.

"I would like some time alone with my family please."

"Mr. Connor, we are merely here to-"

"Its Maria and Michelle isn't it?" He asked the two women who simply nodded dumbly back in reply. "Do you want all this lot here?"

The whole room turned to the two women who quickly shook their heads dumbly.

"Then can the rest of you please just leave?"

There was a moment of silence as each of the third parties exchanged a nervous glance. But eventually there was the sound of scraping chairs as everyone rose to their feet to exit the room. Joe too rose to his feet but Liam went to grab him to stay.

"You're alright mate, I'll be waiting outside. Good luck," he whispered before closing the door behind him.

And with that only the three of them remained.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The three of them sat in a screaming silence that seemed to stretch out endlessly, both parties eyeing each other up. Liam for his part, was hoping for another flash of images of his sister to give the threesome something to talk about. But to his dismay the two women seemed equally unconvinced of his identity and began to search his face for any signs of fraud.

Michelle motioned to Liam's head. "You've got a scar."

Liam rubbed his scar self-consciously; it lay just on his hairline. "From the accident," he explained.

The silence returned again as Michelle seemed pacified with the explanation.

"I hear we have a son?" Liam asked eventually.

Maria beamed. "Yeah, a little boy."

"Did I know about him?"

"No, I was just on my way to tell you I was pregnant when... well y'know."

Liam took this information in; it was so tragic he could laugh.

"Does he know about me?"

"Well not about this no," she ducked her head in embarrassment. "But he knows who you are. We went and lived with your parents for about a year and your mum gave him a photo he's always kept next to his bed."

"Have you told our mum and dad?" Liam turned to Michelle. "I'm assuming we still have a mum and dad right?"

It took Michelle a moment to realise the question had been directed her way, her eyes still squinting at him suspiciously. A look Liam pretended not to notice.

"I'm sorry, what?" she eventually asked as Maria squeezed her hand.

"I was just asking if we've got a mum and dad?"

Michelle was clearly struggling to keep a level head as she stared at the brother she had long thought was gone.

"You do," Maria spoke for her. "But we haven't told them yet. Don't take it the wrong way but we wanted to make sure it was you first."

"No offence taken. I realise how ridiculous this whole situation is."

Liam fiddled with his fingers nervously. It was becoming obvious the two of them had approached this meeting thinking it was nothing more than a sick joke. He wanted to scream at them that he wasn't an imposter but the truth was the longer he sat here the more insignificant his brief memories that had flashed before him of his sister felt. He began feeling, yet again, like he didn't belong with these strangers at all and he yearned for the others to come storming back into the room and buffer this awkward silence.

"They got divorced though, your parents, about two years ago," Maria spoke for her sister in law again.

"Really?"

"Barry was playing away."

"Apparently that runs in the family," Liam looked to the floor. "Look Maria for what it's worth I'm sorry. And if it's any consolation I can't remember my affair."

"It was a long time ago," she dismissed.

"Does she know about this resurrection thing?"

Maria looked uncomfortable in her seat and looked to Michelle for assistance.

"What?" Liam was confused.

"We thought…" Maria searched for the right words. "Well it's just that Carla's been through a lot recently, we just don't know how she would cope with this as well."

"Especially if it turned out to be nothing."

"I get that," he nodded.

"I just can't stop staring at you," Michelle finally blurted out.

Liam smiled, her eyes were tear strewn but no longer sceptical and as a result the atmosphere lifted ever so slightly. Wiping her eyes she sat upright in her chair, pulling herself together.

"I half feel like Paul's about to walk through that door an' all," she smiled.

"Who's Paul?" Liam asked.

Michelle looked shocked for a second, but she quickly hid it. "Paul's our brother."

"Does he know about this?" Liam asked.

"Not likely," Michelle gave a pained smile. "He died the year before you. Got drunk after an almighty row with Carla and skipped a red light when driving."

Liam nodded his head slowly, digesting the information.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Why did Paul have an argument with Carla?"

"Those two were always arguing, but then Carla found out he'd been using prostitutes and asked for a divorce. Who knows if she'd actually have gone through with it."

"Wait, so Carla was married to Paul?

"Yes."

"But then why did we… I'm confused," Liam's mind raced with possibilities.

Michelle, for her part, had been so wrapped up in the mere possibility of Liam being alive in the run up to their encounter that she had barely contemplated his amnesia. And she certainly had not realised the extent of his memory that had been lost. Maybe like Liam she had hoped it would all come flooding back at the very sight of each other. But it had not. Slowly but surely she began to fill Liam in on everything she knew.

As the trio spoke, a familiar rapport began to build up again, like meeting up with a long lost friend. The only difference was that Liam couldn't remember the people and places that were brought up. But one thing he became sure of was that he had loved his sister, he felt an affinity with her that he identified to be a family bond. Maria was nice too he supposed, he could see why he had married her, and she spoke of their son with such animation he knew he had spent the past six years being loved.

After a few hours Maria checked her watch. "Sorry to cut this short but I'm due to pick Liam up from school soon."

"Well, we can keep in touch then?" Liam pushed his chair back and stood awkwardly above his new family. He was unsure how to say goodbye to these almost total strangers he had previously known so well.

"Maybe you can come and visit? I can walk you round where we live and see if it triggers anything?" Michelle offered.

"That would be great yeah," he grinned.

"I'll have to speak to Carla and mum and dad first, but I'm sure they'll all want to see you as well."

"Maybe even a trip to Ireland?" Maria offered.

"What about Liam? I mean your son… or our son?"

"I just need to time to figure out what to say to him."

"Course yeah, goes without saying."

There was an awkward silence again as none of them were sure of the appropriate way to leave things, Liam for one wanted to give his sister a hug. But his brain told him that would be too much.

"This is my address and number, just call me anytime," Liam scribbled his details down and passed it on.

Michelle studied the piece of paper and nodded dumbly.

Liam stuck out his hand to shake, Maria accepted it awkwardly but Michelle laughed and batted it away pulling him in for a hug as both of them burst into tears.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Liam took in the crisp autumn air as he emerged from the police station, feeling a completely different man to the one who had entered earlier that day. He spotted Joe smoking under a shelter to his left and sat himself down next to him.

"How did it go?" Joe stubbed out his cigarette.

Liam smiled and motioned with his hands his head exploding.

"That bad hey?" Joe laughed.

"Surreal mate," Liam nodded. "Just surreal."

"They're both hot."

Liam laughed, Joe had a knack for making light of awkward and heavy situations. A knack that Liam had found particularly helpful over the past few years.

"So what happens next?"

Liam shrugged in response. "We wait and see. I really want to meet my son."

"How old?"

"Five and a half."

"Same as Caitlin."

"It'll be nice to see someone who doesn't know more about me than I know about myself."

"Did you remember anything else?"

"Nope."

"And what about Carla?"

"I think I'm going to need a drink before I fill you in on that," Liam sighed, nudging his friend.

Liam awoke suddenly later that night to the piercing sound of his buzzer in one never-ending, headache-inducing screech.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled, rolling out of bed and rubbing his eyes, he checked his clock that confirmed it was 1am.

Pulling on his hoodie he traipsed through to the front door and answered the phone intercom "Hello?" he grunted.

There was silence on the other end, but just as he was about the hang up he heard the very quiet, almost inaudible utterance of his name. The familiarity of it led him to buzzing the door open.

Straightening up his hair he glanced around his messy flat, it was too late to change it now. But the wait for his guest to climb the stairs to his first floor flat seemed so long he could have tidied the entire building, every nerve in his body was tingling with anticipation and excitement.

When she finally appeared in the doorway she was almost exactly as he had remembered, she seemed almost exotic with her sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes. She looked slightly softer in the flesh than in his memories, maybe it was age or the lighter colour of her hair, or maybe it was because she had clearly been crying. An alien feeling of familiarity washed over him as she stood studying his face. She didn't say anything, just edged slowly towards him in utter disbelief.

"Can I..." she trailed off as she reached her hand out towards him.

He nodded dumbly at her.

She edged towards him slowly, afraid any sudden movement may wake her from this dream. Her hand touched his chest, feeling his heart pounding as she ran her other hand through his scruffy hair. Her finger paused slightly over his scar, she hadn't seen this before, it was alien to her and she padded his hair down to cover it. Hiding the reminder that they had spent so long apart.

"Do you know who I am?" she whispered.

He nodded again. "You're the only person I'm sure of."

His eyes smiled kindly down at her, and it was all she could do not to cry. She had seen his face countless times in photos, had surrounded herself with that but she had missed his voice, his scent, his touch. He was here, a physical presence. She clung to him now, afraid to let go, letting the reality of his reappearance wash over her as she finally let herself believe that he was here. That this whole day hadn't been a wind up, a joke that only Michelle had found amusing. She remained there, clinging to him, her mind racing with questions but she tried to abate them and focus on the thumping of his heart in her ear. He was here and he was alive.

"I've got so many questions..." she trailed off as she looked up at him again. She cupped his face in her hands as she searched for any sign of an imposter. Expecting to see an imposter.

"It is me," he laughed in an attempt to cough back his own impending tears.

"I know," she cried.

"Do you want a drink?"

"A stiff one if you've got it?" She reluctantly let him go, wiping her eyes.

"Whiskey alright?" He headed to his drinks cabinet.

Carla smiled to herself, "Sure."

"What?"

"We've got a lot to catch up on."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"So what do you remember?" Carla finally asked once they had settled down onto his sofa, she watched him sip his whiskey and she curled herself up into a blanket, still freezing from the journey over. She hadn't even grabbed a coat in her haste to get over here.

Liam shrugged in reply, "Just you."

"Me?"

He explained his epiphany at the pub, telling her the detail of what he had seen and omitting what it had made him feel. It was strange to see his wife and not remember their marriage but this felt different to that. And he found himself wondering if feelings such as hate and love we're embedded differently to memories, and so if even when all memory had been wiped, the feelings that developed along side them still remained.

"The Drugs Don't Work always reminded me of you, I haven't listened to it since you died. I just couldn't."

Liam nodded slowly, taking another sip of his whiskey. He had so many questions to ask, questions that he hadn't felt comfortable asking his sister. They had had an affair and he had supposedly died because of that. It insinuates a level of passion that goes above and beyond the everyday. And, as he was learning tonight, it wasn't something that had died either. He was fighting the urge not to envelope her in his arms. But as it stood, he also felt like he had been blinded and thrust into a room full of strangers, feebly attempting to find some safe ground. He wasn't sure where the line was in order to avoid crossing it; what was the etiquette in these types of situations?

She cut through his thoughts like a knife with her next sentence.

"I suppose you're wondering what kind of person you were, to cheat on his pregnant wife with his dead brother's widow," she said plainly as if she had read his mind.

"Pretty much," he gave her a relieved sideways glance.

"Do you remember when my brother got sent down? The first time."

Liam's blank face confirmed that he did not so she continued.

"Paul had been away on business in London, and me and Rob had had a bust up when I had gone to see him in prison for the first time. I was in a state and you turned up out of the blue looking for me to sign your new passport photo..."

He remembered as soon as she said it, popping into his head as a brand new memory. Sharper and more in focus than anything before. It could have even been yesterday. He had reluctantly gone round to get his photographs signed, he remembered being coerced by Paul who actually just wanted him to check on his wife after her run in at the prison. He remembered her swinging the door open drunkenly, half empty bottle of whiskey in her hand and one of Paul's hoodies just managing to cover her modesty as he made out a tiny pair of black lace French knickers underneath. He remembered her initial bravado but then he remembered her cuddled up on the sofa next to him, he remembered the faint smell of her shampoo, and the way she had nestled into him. 'Thank you', she had whispered almost inaudibly, and he had held her until the morning.

"I remember that night," Liam said to himself as much as her.

"You supported me so effortlessly then, and I think that's what happened when Paul died too. You were just there. I think it brought us so close that neither of us really understood our friendship anymore. Things escalated the way they did, not because you were a bad person, they escalated because you were trying to be a good person and not pursue something that you felt was a betrayal of your brother."

Liam took a moment to digest this.

"Well that's the conclusion I've come to," she shrugged. "Eases the guilt somewhat."

The two spent the rest of the night chatting, much like they had all those years ago, and slowly but surely he was able to remember small things about his forgotten life. Carla had a way of extracting a memory from a place he never knew existed, and suddenly he had a happy family, fleshed out with happy memories. He had a past life that he could finally gain a snippet to. He started to remember his wife, his deceased child, his family, his murderer. But amongst all this, whilst Liam filled her in with his humdrum existence as John, Carla filled him in on her life since his 'death'. Which didn't quite read like the fairytale he would have wished on her, it pained him to listen to any of it. And to hear her talk of Peter so passionately wasn't easy.

"Do you still love him?" Liam asked, although as soon as the words escaped his lips he had wished he could catch them and shove them back where they had come from. He feared he had breached the precarious etiquette line he had been so conscious of. But to his relief she hadn't noticed. He wasn't sure if the unease he felt was reciprocated. Whilst she was almost a stranger to him, he wasn't to her; she seemed to know him better than anyone, especially himself.

She thought for a moment. "A small part of me does," she finally whispered.

Liam nodded slowly. He searched her face but could only see a huge weight of sadness that seemed to shroud her. This happy reunion of theirs had brought up memories for her that he wished he could eradicate. He had strived for so long to regain his memories that he was only now realising the merits that forgetting brought with it. Silence descended on the pair as her memory pulled her in a direction away from him. Keen to stop this, and abate the pang of jealousy the topic of her husband brought with it, Liam rose to his feet and headed for the kitchen counter where his coat had been thrown earlier that night.

"What are you doing?"

Liam reached into the pocket and pulled out his trusty notebook that he had pointlessly carried with him every day for so long. He handed it to her before setting himself back down.

"What is it?"

"Open it..." he urged.

She flicked through the near empty notebook and stopped when she got to the first page. She read her name in his familiar scrawl and looked up at him confused.

"This was my memory book, I've carried it everywhere for the past few years," he explained. "And all the years I carried it that's the only thing I felt sure of. Up until a week ago that's all I had to go on."

"You remembered me?"

"Not exactly, it was just a feeling," Liam paused, he felt silly all of a sudden, this name had seemed so significant to him for all those years. But presented here to the owner of that name, he struggled to find the words to explain the difference between his feeling and his memories. And there was no way he was going to say something cheesy about his heart remembering her when his head did not. "It seemed a lot more significant in my head."

"Thank you," she smiled, her eyes brimming with tears she went to hand him the book back.

"Keep it. I don't need it anymore."

She enveloped the book in her arms, her eyes brimming with tears. "I forgot about this."

"How do you mean?"

"I forgot how you made everything else…" she searched for the right word. "Insignificant."

Liam extended a hand to gently cup her face, wiping an escaped tear with the pad of his thumb. She closed her eyes at his touch and smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Liam could have stayed in that moment for an eternity, his hand gently cupping her face; her eyes tear strewn but happy. He felt a sense of calm wash over him, until his phone began to ring, breaking the silence.

"It's Michelle," Liam frowned as he picked his phone up from the coffee table. "What does she want at this time?"

Carla wiped her tears with the heel of her hand before checking her watch. "It's eight thirty!" she exclaimed in shock. They had talked through the whole night.

"Chelle?" he answered his phone.

Carla heard her friend on the other of the phone laugh loudly.

"This is still so strange!" Michelle babbled on.

"Tell me about it," Liam laughed back, rolling his eyes playfully to Carla.

"Look, I'm sorry it's early," Michelle suddenly turned serious. "But you haven't seen Carla have you? She's not come home-"

"She's here."

"There?"

"Yeah."

"Thank God! Is she ok?"

"She's fine. You can pop round and see for yourself if you like?"

"Ok, sure. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Liam hung up and smiled, but Carla was checking her watch again and beginning to collect her belongings together. The phone call had seemed to alert her to a world that existed outside the two of them and she was pulling away.

"I should probably go, I've got a factory to open..."

"You can take one day off right? It's not every day you get your dead..." he struggled to find the right word to symbolise their relationship, "friend back in your life."

"That is true," she smiled at his use of the word friend. "But the real world beckons."

"I am part of the real world," Liam countered, not wanting her to leave.

"Of course you are. I just need to give my brain chance to catch up. You just can't expect people to accept you're alive now so quickly."

Liam frowned. "I don't expect anything."

"I know. But it's all a bit surreal, you can see that?"

"Surreal? Of course I get that. I've missed out on 6 years of my life! I've got a son I've not had the chance to meet and a family who have all moved on without me. It's not exactly easy for me either. Would you prefer I had never remembered anything?"

"That's not what I said," Carla attempted to reassure him. "You're getting defensive."

"And you're pulling away."

"It was only just over a month ago I found out my brother had set up my husband for the murder of his mistress and now I'm sat here with you! My head needs a chance to catch up!"

"Ok."

"Ok? Is that it?" Carla was slightly surprised.

"Well what do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, you've usually got an answer for everything."

"You know where I am," Liam was flippant now.

Carla nodded slowly. "I'll wait for Chelle so she knows I'm ok."

Liam nodded to himself. "I'm going to hop in the shower. Let Michelle in when she gets here."

He didn't wait for her reply as he headed to the bathroom. Michelle's phone call it seemed had snapped her back to her own reality that he was no longer a part of. He had regained so many memories through the course of the night, but in none of them was she this defensive, this averse to letting him in. He had waited so long for this particular reunion but in the clear light of day she was pulling away. He understood that he hadn't been there but it wasn't his fault. She couldn't blame him for all the bad things that had happened to her. All he knew was that up until that phone call, this night had been the best he could remember, and if there was one thing he could take from it, it was that he was still head over heels in love with Carla Connor.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

When he finally emerged from his room Carla had gone and Liam felt a pang of disappointment.

"Hi," Michelle waved shyly at her brother as she waited for the kettle to boil. "I hope you don't mind, I'm just making a brew if you want one?"

"Go sit down and I'll make these, the kettle's a bit dodgy. Milk two sugars right?"

"You remembered?" she smiled, hopping onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

"Yep. It's slowly coming back."

"Well I brought some pictures I thought you might like, and some of little Liam as well if you wanted to see them?"

"Yeah, I'd love to," Liam smiled handing her the tea.

He couldn't remember his sister as well as he would've liked, but he knew he liked her, she was remarkably like him. And he was put at ease with her in a way he wasn't with Carla.

"How did it go with Carla? She seemed quiet." Michelle enquired.

"It was great actually, we talked all night. But she went a bit funny this morning, we argued I think, I'm not even really sure what about."

"That sounds like you and Carla," Michelle smiled. "She's been through a lot, you just need to give her time."

"Why does everyone keep saying that? It's not as if I'm forcing myself down anyone's throat. She came round here at the dead of night. She found me!"

"I know, I know! But you were the love of her life-"

"She said that?" Liam looked skeptically to his sister.

"All the time," Michelle laughed. "It took a couple of years and some developing alcohol dependency issues to get over you."

"Do you think she still loves me?" he asked cautiously, aware of sounding rather like a child.

"I think she's in a delicate place. A year ago she was marrying someone else she was convinced was her soul mate, then that blows up spectacularly and you show up again. There's only so much one person can take."

"As soon as you called this morning she just… pulled away."

"She just can't wrap her head around it."

Liam nodded dumbly, looking morosely down at his mug of tea.

"In the spirit of giving Carla space," Michelle added nervously. "I thought I could ring mum, dad and Ryan today and we could maybe get a cheap flight over to Ireland for Christmas?"

"And what if they need space as well?"

"We're your family Liam. There's no question mark over our relationship with you. I want to smother you, in the nicest possible way," she laughed as Liam pulled a face.

"Sounds aggressive."

"You can rest assured mum will aggressively smother you. That you need not worry about!"

"What about Maria and Liam?"

"Baby steps with the two of them as well."

"This whole process is so frustrating."

"I know. But maybe that's why Ireland is such a good idea? It gives Liam and Carla some time to process."

"Do you not need time?"

"Nope. Like I said, I just want to spend as much time with you as possible!"

"What's Carla doing for Christmas?"

"I already offered for her to come to Ireland but she declined, shockingly."

"Because of mam?"

"Pretty much. She's promised Roy she'll spend the day with him anyway."

Liam's head swiveled round. "Who's Roy?"

But Michelle fell about laughing in response. "No one you need to consider a threat in any way."

"Right, where are them pictures then?" Liam rubbed his hands together, inspired by his sister's vote of confidence.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

As Liam drove towards the address his sister had scribbled onto a piece of paper for him he was reminded of a few psychology papers he had read. He didn't consider himself a psychologist by any stretch of the imagination, but his quests for answers to his memory block had led him in that direction. He gave up when he had realised that reading psychologist's findings proved to be less of a guide to remembering but instead a list of reasons and ways that proved that there was no guide to retrieving memories that had been lost.

Right now, on his return to his former stomping ground he was about to find out which psychologists had been correct, the ones that believed memories were best retrieved in the places in which they were conceived, or the ones who believed that this was nonsense. Liam was surprised that at this moment, when he could finally be on the cusp of remembering, he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He felt as though he was about to walk into a lion's den. Hoards of people looking at him expectantly, repeating their name over and over until he remembered.

It was too late to back out now though, he thought to himself as he parked up and climbed out of his car. The flights were booked and he was looking forward to seeing his mum and dad, from what little he remembered of them. And Ryan, the only memory of him was of picking him up for speeding off in his mum's boyfriend's car. If he could just get this next hour on Coronation Street over he would be ok.

He stood staring at down the cobbled street, waiting for a lightning bolt of recognition, anything. But his thoughts were interrupted by an angry car horn that forced him to dodge out of the road. And that's when he noticed her watching him by the entrance to the pub.

"Hi," Carla grinned.

"Hi," Liam replied, giving a rather pathetic wave as he headed towards her. "How long have you been stood there?"

"Long enough to see you nearly get yourself run over again. You would've thought you'd learnt your lesson."

"It's harder to dodge the cars that have you as their destination," he smiled.

"Recognise anything?" she motioned around her.

"I'm not sure really. I've got a vague memory of stumbling out of that pub, but I don't think I like what that might say about my alcohol habits in my past life though."

"I think that's a pretty accurate depiction."

They both smiled and nodded, feeling the awkward silence stretch out between them.

"You want to see the factory? That should trigger something?" she offered.

"Thanks, maybe when I get back?"

"Ah yes, Michelle's filled me in on your big Christmas trip to Ireland."

"It was either this or mum personally swam across to Manchester to double check we weren't pulling her leg."

"You joke, but I wouldn't put it past the old battle axe."

"Time away can give you your space as well."

"Thank you."

"Is Michelle in there?" Liam motioned to the pub.

"She's just finishing her shift, giddy as anything," Carla sighed. "But I'd go round the back if you don't want to make an entrance. It packed with people who you should know."

Liam ran a hand through his messy mop, and sighed. "Thanks."

"Happy Christmas then," she smiled, she felt the pull to stay here with him, talk to him. She loved the sound of his voice again.

Liam nodded in reply, flashing her a smile. He didn't want this moment to end either and so as she began to head down the street he called out to her. But as she looked at him expectantly he struggled to find the words he really wanted to say.

"Michelle said I should give you some space, and I understand that completely. I just wanted to say…" he paused as he searched for the right words again. "I understand that you're marriage ended badly, and that you're struggling to trust people. And I also know that six years ago we were going to run away together and I can't just expect us to pick up where we left off..."

Carla's head span round to make sure no one was listening, her eyes implored him to stop talking but he needed her to know where he stood, know that he meant no pressure.

"But so much time has passed, and we're different people now. And I just want you to know I'm not pushing anything on you here, I just want the chance to be friends again."

"I have to go," Carla replied, scuttling back to the factory before he had chance to reply again.

He watched her go, marching back to the factory, her coat billowing in the wind he smiled to himself. He hadn't really meant what he had said, but it occurred to him that if this was her reaction to his hope of being friends then anything else was out of the question.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Carla dropped her gym bag on the floor exhausted from a long day, she looked to her left at the wine rack in the kitchen calling to her but did her best to resist. These days there seemed to be a list as long as her arm to entice her into an alcohol fueled stupor but she had promised herself that morning not tonight. Rob wouldn't want her to, she wouldn't give Peter the satisfaction and Liam; well she still hadn't wrapped her head around that resurrection. Her jetlag from the previous day's flight from LA for the moment, was enough to stave of the craving anyway.

After a shower, a questionable microwavable dinner and some embarrassingly awful TV programs she was about to pour herself a small glass when she heard a key in the door.

"You're back?" was all Carla could muster as Michelle burst through the front door.

"Don't look too happy to see me!" she exclaimed, pulling her reluctant friend in for a hug.

"Where's Liam?"

"He's staying on an extra couple of weeks, mum wasn't quite ready to let him go."

"Was she ever?" Carla smirked.

"She asked after you."

"Hoping I'd finally kicked the bucket?"

Michelle gave her an unimpressed look in reply.

"Do you want a coffee?" Carla headed into the kitchen, steering the conversation away from anything Connor related.

"Please."

Michelle studied her friend as she set about in the kitchen. She looked tired, and she couldn't help but notice the wine bottle poised, waiting on the counter. Michelle had the option of staying an extra week with her parents but she had been so worried about Carla it hadn't felt right. It hadn't felt right her not being there at all, it was a while since they hadn't spent Christmas together.

"How have you been?" She asked skeptically.

"Oh you know, muddling through. A little jet lagged but fine," Carla dismissed, passing over the hot cup if coffee and taking a seat opposite.

"You know what I meant."

Carla gently massaged her temples, feeling too groggy for this conversation.

"I don't know how I am Michelle."

"It wasn't the same in Ireland without you."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"It was weird though. It felt like we were all complete again, not fully obviously because Paul wasn't there but more complete. Like a hole had been filled. I can't explain it."

"No, that makes perfect sense to me," Carla nodded slowly. A feeling of completeness had come over her when she had first laid eyes on him again, and it was a feeling that she hadn't quite shaken since.

"Have you thought anymore about Liam?" Michelle cautiously dropped in.

"You're really pushing the Liam agenda aren't you? I don't know, your brother is back and so you miss my birthday and Christmas to go off gallivanting with him, and now you're back all you can talk about is Liam this, Liam that," Carla smiled, teasingly.

"Stop deflecting," Michelle raised an eyebrow, knowing how to handle her sister in law.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I just think you need to acknowledge he's back that's all."

Carla took a deep breath and stared intently at Michelle, searching for the words of what she was feeling.

"I can't let myself believe it Chelle," she finally conceded. "And if I did, I don't know what I'd do about it."

"There's no reason you can't be friends?"

"Y'know I remember a time when you said we had betrayed Paul's memory?"

"I saw you grieve for Liam remember? I know how much he means to you."

Carla felt a punch to the gut with those words, but she tried not to let it show.

"If history has proven anything it's that me and Liam can't be friends."

"But he is your family."

"He wants something more from me though, something I don't have the emotional capacity to give him."

"He hasn't said that-"

"Not out loud maybe, but I can read him like a book."

"I don't want to push you into anything, I promise I don't. But, don't you think Peter has ruined enough? You can't let him ruin your future too."

"It's not just Peter, it's Tony and Frank, even Paul. One by one they all destroyed me, and I just blindly let the next man build me up again only to do exactly the same thing all over again. I'm just sick of it, I need some time to find out who I am again."

"Look, I'm not saying hang out all the time, just spend some time with him, maybe the three of us together? He needs to be around people he knows. And like it or not, you trigger something in his brain and he remembers with you."

"Ah. Here we go. You want me to spend time with him is he remembers you? Is that's it?" Carla cried out in mock indignation.

"You know me better than that."

Carla sighed, letting out a small laugh. "I do, I'm sorry. I just get-"

"Defensive? I know."

"Just give me a little more time."

Michelle reached out and patted her friend's hand reassuringly.

"So how was LA? You're looking irritatingly sun kissed."

Carla smiled gratefully for the change in subject, regaling her friend with tales from her New Year stateside.


End file.
